


Sham

by OffTheRocks



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Anal Sex, Blood, Calm Down Erik, Canon Compliant, Cherik - Freeform, Cherik only as a frame, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Deception, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Relationship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Going to Hell, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Mental Coercion, Naked Cuddling, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Poor Charles, Protective Raven, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Coercion, Underage Sex, Voyeurism, Wrong, serious underage, so very wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 02:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OffTheRocks/pseuds/OffTheRocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As they settle in Westchester, Erik finds out something disturbing about Charles' history in that house.</p><p>Charles is a clever child who wants to be a grown-up. Harry simply offers to teach him.</p><p> </p><p>(Additional warning: emotional manipulation of a child into thinking This is Love)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sham

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot insist enough that you heed the tags. *Everything* wrong is in this fic...
> 
> I don't know what came over me (Mysterious Skin probably played a part). I mean, mentions of past child abuse can be found in more than one fic, but this is going pretty graphic. I realize that the kudo button will not be appropriate/comfortable to hit, so I fully expect poor return out of this! Do drop a line if you want to discuss it though.

They finish the tour in Charles room, much later that night, as everyone splits to go to bed. Erik picked a room for appearances’ sakes, even if everyone is probably well aware that he’s not going to use it much. Charles is thinking the same as he pulls his lover into a kiss. They sit on the bed and Charles runs a hand over the patchwork quilt.

“I lost my virginity in this bed.” He says with a little smile.

Erik hums, interested.

“Is that so?” He kisses Charles’ neck, sliding his hands up his thighs, not in any rush. “How old were you?” He asks.

“Eleven.”

Erik pulls back, a shocked look on his face. Charles looks down.

“I know, it’s a bit young.”

“It’s a big young?” Erik repeats. “You think?”

Charles shrugs – he looks like a kid being told off.

“How old was the girl?” Erik asks.

Charles clears his throat, and even in the dim light Erik can swear he’s blushing.

“Man.” He says in a cough.

“Man.” Erik clenches his teeth. Not boy. Man. He’s starting to feel angry about this. “How old was he?” He asks, his voice harder.

Charles is picking at a loose thread on the quilt. He clears his throat again.

“Late twenties?” He mumbles. “He was my carer.” He explains before Erik can comment. “Before my mother remarried, before Raven showed up, she didn’t want to leave me alone with the maid for months at a time so she hired...Harry. And Harry, well, taught me everything I know about sex.”

“When you were _eleven_?” Erik insists, still in slight shock.

“You know what it’s like at that age.” Charles says with some embarrassment. “You want to grow up faster, you’re getting in touch with your body, if I may say, you want to know everything... Harry was...” He sighs. “He was very attractive. He was the first person to give me this much attention. Sometimes he forgot that I was just a little boy, but-”

“Charles.” Erik interrupts. “You’re telling me you were abused as a child, and you-”

“No.” Charles cuts him off. “No, it wasn’t abuse. I wanted it.”

He sounds so convinced. Erik shakes his head sadly.

“Did it hurt?” He asks pointedly.

“Well...yes, but-”

“Did he use your body for his own pleasure? Did you understand fully what you were getting into? Did he take advantage of the fact that you were a child and there was nobody else around to guide you?”

Charles eyes widen a little, and he has that guilty look again.

“Of course if you put it like that, but you weren’t there, he-”

“He abused you.” Erik fills in. He gets up abruptly, looking at the quilt like it pinched him. “My God Charles, you’re actually telling me you were _raped_ in this bed as a child, how can you be so casual about it?”

“Why are you so angry?” Charles throws back. “I’ve told you it wasn’t rape.”

“Of course it was!” Erik shouts, slamming his fist into the wall. Charles startles, but Erik keeps going. “There is no such thing as a grown man having sweet innocent sex with a _child_ , Charles! And maybe you didn’t know that at the time, but surely you must realize now.”

“He loved me!” Charles argues. “And I was smart enough to know what we were doing!”

Erik wants to shake him, or at least to ask if he’s hearing himself, but there’s a knock on the door. Raven’s head appears without waiting for an answer.

“Hi guys.” She says. “Friendly reminder that we no longer sleep in a different building now. We’re actually all on this floor, so. You might want to keep it down.”

“Sorry.” Charles offers.

Raven all but ignores him.

“Erik, can I have a word?” She focuses on the older man. “You can continue your fight later if you still feel like it.” She adds as she sees him look at Charles.

Charles shrugs and turns away to dress down for bed, so Erik follows Raven. As soon as they’re out and into the study Raven where shoves him, she drops any show of kindness and glares at him ferociously.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She accuses.

“Do you know what this is about?” Erik almost challenges her.

“My room is next door.” Raven reminds him. “The volume at which you were having this conversation kind of gave it away.”

“Raven.” Erik says cautiously. “Charles suffered from child abuse, and he’s-”

“I know.” Raven hisses. “I found out too. But you think it’s a good idea to force him to see it that way? He’s _fine_. He’s been able to be fine, hell, he was able to flirt the pants out of men and women alike throughout university. Don’t go and yell at him for that and convince him he should be traumatized.”

“But-”

“Do you really believe he doesn’t know how wrong it was?” Raven goes on. “He’s not an idiot. He chose to believe it was love rather than abuse to protect himself, he tried to make it a neutral memory, if not a good one. Don’t turn it into something horrible for him. Please.”

Erik hesitates.

“Is it right to let him lie to himself like this?” He wonders.

“It’s not going to make it go away.” Raven says softly. “So it’s better if he remembers this guy as his first love than as his rapist.

“I guess you’re right.” Erik sighs.

“I am right.” Raven says, with a mute _always_. “Trust me.”

 

*

 

“I trust you…completely.”

The way Sharon bats her eyelashes and scrapes her nails down the young man’s lapel is not even subtle – Charles rolls his eyes. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost believe his mother was going to stop right there her quest for a new husband – she’s not subtle about that either – and propose to Harry on the spot. But she’s had her fun already – judging by the creaking Charles could hear at the other end of the corridor last night – and he’s the help. Sharon hired him to look after her son in her absence, however long it may take to bring home the next Mr Xavier. For all the times Charles resented her indifference, this time he hates her for caring. Sure, he’s only eleven. But he would have preferred she didn’t remember that; he would have been just fine of his own – the presence of a cook and a maid, the minimum service Sharon has to maintain in the low season in spite of her meanness to keep the house running, don’t count in her eyes but would make a sufficient presence to Charles.

It’s not that he doesn’t like Harry. He’s been around a few times before, and he’s okay. He tries to let him have fun like the vivacious child he is, yet he addresses him like a grownup, and Charles appreciates that. He was always a smart kid, but his IQ seems to have gone through the roof lately – that, and he’s starting to hear people’s thoughts if he concentrates hard enough. Right now he doesn’t need to; he knows exactly what both adults are thinking. Sharon is remembering last night, and she hopes the man she eventually marries is as good as that in the sack – if not, she’ll have to keep Harry around as a lover. Harry is partly wanting more, partly looking forward to see the back of her, to be able to take possession of the house like he owns it. Charles has seen him ogle the liquor cabinet already, and he’s conspiratorially promised him to teach him to play pool.

So, yeah, it’s not that he doesn’t like Harry. But he doesn’t want to be looked after – he’s been raising himself for eleven years now, he doesn’t need a guy who’s paid a ludicrous amount of money to pretend he cares about him. Paradoxically, he knows they will both get bored a lot more quickly with the other one around. Maybe if he can convince Harry that they don’t have to play ball or otherwise do essentially kid stuff? Maybe they can then engage in more interesting activities. Pool is a good idea. Chess maybe? Harry might have other ideas too.

Harry does have other ideas.

It takes Charles a few days to find out. The first week goes smoothly; Harry is attentive, vigilant, yet he always gives Charles his space, and he only questions his whereabouts when the boy pushes it, on purpose – like when he is ostensibly still up at midnight and reaches for cake as a snack. They test each other’s boundaries, one the little prince in his mansion, one the responsible adult; it’s not sure either of them has decided who’s really in charge.

Until Harry does – and it’s obvious he’s not empowering Charles.

“So.” He says one night when they have finished their dinner – Harry always sends home the cook and the maid when the food is ready, leaving them alone for the night. He settles on the couch and eyes Charles sitting on the piano stool. “You’re smart for your age, aren’t you?”

Charles has already beaten him at chess twice – the two games Harry was willing to play, in fact. He shrugs modestly.

“Almost an adult already.” Harry smiles, looking at Charles rather intently.

“Well, I’ve never really been with other children.” Charles justifies – or apologizes. “Mother has parties, but they’re friends her age. Mind you, I think I prefer the company of adults.”

“Do you.” Harry seems pleased about that. He thinks for a moment, then beckons Charles. “Come here.”

Charles comes forward, and Harry takes both his wrists to pull him closer, until he’s standing between Harry’s knees, who’s casting him a conniving look.

“There’s something we can do that adults do.” He says. “Even better than pool. You mother would _never_ let you.”

He says that like it’s his main selling point. He lets go of Charles wrists and his hands come to rest on his knees, not quite clasping Charles’ narrow waist.

“Do you mean sex?” Charles raises an eyebrow. “Because I’m eleven, not four. It’s not like my mother has let me ignore the existence of that thing that adults do, as you put it.”

Harry looks startled for an instant, then barks out a laugh.

“Well, isn’t that a turn on. You’ve got a mouth, eh?”

His eyes narrow on Charles’ mouth, and it’s so visibly giving him ideas that Charles cannot help but probe with his mind.

_Beautiful mouth fucking look at those lips should they be so red he’s a boy he’s got such a beautiful mouth for a boy little red prefect mouth oh god those lips wrapped around my cock oh god oh god can he even open wide enough that will be so hot and his little tongue darting out-_

He jerks back like he’s been burn. He wasn’t expecting Harry’s thoughts to pour out so fast, so loud and clear.

“What?” The man asks, holding out a hand to invite him back closer.

“I don’t think it’s right.” Charles says cautiously.

“It’s not wrong.” Harry counters. “Everybody does it. Not kids so much, but you’re not a regular kid now, are you?”

He’s almost taunting, as if he’s daring Charles to react like an adult.

_So sheltered so lonely just his slut of a mother not quite enough he knows nothing wrong or right he knows from books not enough how much I could teach him he’ll be so fresh so mine all mine-_

Charles closes his eyes and barricades his mind, taking another step back. Enough of hearing Harry’s thoughts – they’re flowing too quickly and he can’t tell if he should be scared or excited. There is nothing but want coming out of them – and from Harry’s face. Lust, Charles guesses. He may be ignorant about the logistics of sex, but he knows his deadly sins. Which, he’s observed, are not so deadly as much as very, very frequent. Not least in his mother, and he’s not seeing her go to Hell.

“We’ll take it slow.” Harry says, seeing his hesitation. “Here, I’ll start. You can stay there, I’m not touching you, just look.”

Charles doesn’t move an inch as the man undresses, completely. He opens his arms with a laugh, presenting his naked body, and Charles cannot help but stare at his cock. It’s half-hard and it seems huge – compared to his own which is the only other cock he’s even seen after all.

“So?” Harry asks. “Like what you see?”

Charles looks back up at Harry’s face and narrows his eyes.

“Isn’t it supposed to be a man and a woman?” He points out.

“Only if you want to make babies.” Harry grins. He holds out a hand again. “Come here.”

Charles doesn’t move.

“Come here.” Harry repeats with more insistence and less smile. He catches himself then, and softens. “Hey, remember when I let you taste some brandy? Remember what you said?”

“That I always wanted to taste it.” Charles says cautiously. “Because mother drinks it all the time and she seems to enjoy it.”

“But she would never let you because it’s not for children, right?” Harry reminds him. “And was it good?”

“Yes.” Charles admits. The sip of alcohol made him all warm and fuzzy and he was in a great mood all evening.

“Well.” Harry says. “Guess what else your mother _really_ enjoys. You probably heard how much she enjoys it. Doesn’t that make you want to try?” He leaned forward to whisper. “We won’t tell her.” He shoots Charles another smile, and takes his hand. “Okay?”

When Charles doesn’t pull back, Harry guides his little hand to his crotch, and presses it against his cock. He shudders, but Charles snaps his hand away.

“Ew!” He cries out, surprised by the texture and the heat of the flesh.

“That’s not very nice.” Harry comments.

“Sorry.” Charles mumbles. “I…I don’t want to touch it. You’re not supposed to touch it, not even your own, you’re not supposed to show it to other people.”

He remembers his mother smacking him over the head some years ago because she caught him with his hand in his pyjama bottoms – he was scratching an itch, really – and she said he was dirty.

“You _are_.” Harry argues. “You supposed to do just that if you want sex.” He shrugs. “But if you don’t want sex, it’s okay. Maybe you’re too small.”

Again, he’s taunting. And Charles doesn’t want to be treated like a child, it’s unfair.

“I’m not _small_.” He snarls. “I’m more intelligent than you.”

“Are you?” Harry laughs. “Well, maybe you are. But some things you really know _nothing_ about.” It seems to please him immensely. “I’m just offering to teach you. Just like I taught you to play pool. You’re growing up, you have to learn new things. You know, same as when you’re five or six and you learn to read and write, then you learn mathematics and how the world works, later you will learn to drive and earn money. Sex is only another of those things you learn to do as you grow up. And since you’re really smart for your age, you can learn that ahead of other little boys. What do you say?”

Charles hears Harry’s points, but something fails to make sense in his overall argumentation – that might be linked to the fact that the man is still stark naked and that it is a little difficult to take him seriously, to see him as a teacher of any sorts.

“And it feels good.” Harry adds. “You know it does.”

He reaches out, strokes the boy’s cheek gently.

“Don’t be scared.” He says.

“I’m not scared.” Charles whispers back.

In truth he is. He really is. Harry is twice his size, he’s being nice for now, but he could do anything with him if he wanted to force him to undress or touch his cock again. He remembers his thoughts. His eyes flicker down. God it really is big. He’s not putting _that_ in his mouth, he’ll choke for sure.

“Charles.” Harry speaks, and he looks back up to his face – his pupils seem wider than they were. “You can do whatever you want. Exploring is the first part of the lesson. And it’s okay to touch. I assure you you’re supposed to touch.”

He slides his hands from Charles shoulders down his arms, and pulls his wrists again until he brings both his hands to his groin and clasp them around his cock – an almost shocked sound escapes his lips. Charles still doesn’t like the feeling, but he makes an effort – it’s like with vegetables, the cook Mary always told him (when his mother is God knows where and he eats in the kitchen) you’re not allowed to say you don’t like it unless you try at least half your plate. Harry removes his hands, and leaves Charles in command. Charles runs his finger on the hardening length, lifting it a little to see the balls behind it, probing around the foreskin. Harry is bucking his hips and his breathing gets irregular.

“It’s heavy.” Charles comments eventually.

“That’s mostly because it’s hard.” Harry pants, smiling down at him. “It means it’s happy, it feels good so it gets up.”

Charles frowns. He’s had erections before, in the morning, but it wasn’t quite like that. He doesn’t think he dreams about sex, since he’s never done anything sexual. All he has are his mother’s and her lovers’ sounds, and that fills him with more disgust than happiness.

“You’ll see when you get bigger.” Harry says. “But I can already make you feel good there, if you want.”

He reaches for Charles’ trousers – the boy takes a step back.

“Come on.” Harry repeats, patiently. “Don’t you feel weird being all dressed up while I am like this? I told you, it’s okay. It’s normal.”

He takes in Charles’ defiant look and backs away.

“I’ll let you do it, it’s okay. In your own time.”

He sits on the sofa, sprawled shamelessly, legs open and his now fully hard cock pointing up conspicuously. Charles feels his mouth go dry. He looks good. He really does look good. He hasn’t had that many men in his life, let alone naked ones, but he is completely able to appreciate that Harry’s body is a damn hot one. He feels a little sympathetic towards his mother for a moment. She did always choose her lovers carefully.

He takes his clothes off. He doesn’t want to be a child about it; he wants to grow up to have Harry’s body, Harry’s confidence. He wants Harry to him teach him to be like him, to be great with women – and never again that bastard Uncle Richard of his will call him a runt that didn’t get his mother’s charms. But maybe, if not Sharon’s, he has charms of his own, judging by Harry’s wolf-whistle when he stands awkwardly in the pool of his clothes.

“Look at you.” The man appreciates. “You are beautiful, Charles. Come closer, let me see you.”

Charles comes up to him, and Harry runs his large hands over his chest, back, and down his legs.

“You are so beautiful.” He repeats. “You are perfect.”

He pulls him closer, closer, until Charles has to climb on his lap and Harry can press him against his chest, hugging him, skin against skin. Charles can feel the big cock poking at his thigh, and he feels his own cock tugging. It’s hardening too. He remains against Harry stiffly, feeling rather uncomfortable in the embrace, until the older man runs his hands down his back again, down to his thighs which he spreads apart, positioning Charles to be straddling his knees. He slides him closer again, until his cock is touching the boy’s belly. Charles looks down at himself, feeling ridiculously small in comparison.

“Don’t worry.” Harry says, guessing. “You’ll grow up. You might even get bigger than me!” He reaches down, and cups Charles’ cock and balls together in one hand, rubbing softly. “For now it’s perfect.”

Charles tenses, not entirely liking the touch of another man’s hand on his private parts. Which is something Harry, on the contrary, enjoys very much apparently, since he takes Charles’ hand to set it back on his member.

“Like this.” He says, his hand over Charles’ hand and sliding them up and down, up and down.

Charles notices the tip is leaking, which makes it an easy slide.

“Go on, you do it.” Harry places both his hands on Charles’ hips and looks down expectantly.

Charles moves his hand awkwardly, and he can only trust the grunts that escape Harry’s lips on the ‘feel good’ part. He’s not really getting it yet.

_So clumsy so new at this-_

He squeezes Harry’s cock a little too hard as he shuts down his mind again, unnerved. He gets it, he has a lot to learn. But there’s no reason he cannot do this. He has always done everything successfully, this shouldn’t be any different. Harry gasps, tightens his fingers on Charles’s hips.

“Wow, easy.” He huffs. “Don’t _squeeze_. Hey, you know what, that’s not the easiest thing to start with. You can use your mouth first.”

Charles’ eyes widen.

“My mouth?”

“Mouth is good.” Harry confirms, pupils really blown wide, eyes fixed on Charles’ lips with intent. “You know, that’s why people kiss. It’s sweeter than a touch of the hand. Don’t you like it when your mother kisses you goodnight?”

“My mother never kisses me.” Charles informs him.

Harry’s gaze shoots back to Charles’ eyes.

“Really?” He asks, surprised.

Charles shrugs. “She hires people to take care of me.” He notes. “What did you expect?”

“True.” Harry nods. “Well. I can take care of that too.”

He cups Charles’ face between his hands and presses his lips to his.

_God those lips oh my god those perfect lips so soft small lips-_

Charles feels Harry’s tongue on his mouth-

_Open your mouth your perfect mouth open god perfect red mouth lips little tongue perfect so soft-_

“Open your mouth.” Harry whispers without pulling back much.

He presses on again, tongue looking for a passage between Charles’ lips – they part, Charles lets him slip his tongue inside his mouth. It’s warm, slimy; it finds his own tongue and pushes it around in his mouth like it wants to take its place. Charles has seen people kiss before (Sharon’s parties), he’s seen their tongues touch and dance around, so he opens his mouth more and lets Harry lead the way. When he pulls back, he looks at Charles like he’s the most amazing thing on earth. He runs a thumb over his lower lip, then he pushes on his shoulders to lower him down.

“Use your mouth.” He bids again. “Lick me like a lollipop, baby.”

Charles finds himself face to cock with Harry, and he still really doesn’t want to put it in his mouth, but maybe he doesn’t have to. Maybe he can just lick. He sticks out his tongue and he does just that, a wet trail up the length of Harry’s erection, whose hips jerk up brusquely.

“Oh God.” He pants. “Yes, yes, keep it up. Don’t stop.”

But Charles sits up and winces.

“It’s weird.” He says.

“Don’t stop.” Harry repeats with a growl, grabbing Charles’ shoulder and shoving him back forward.

Charles falls over himself and crashes nose first in Harry’s groin, his thick cock slapping his face. Harry has him by the hair now, and he grabs his jaw with his other hand, forcing his mouth open.

“The lesson is not over.” Harry hisses. “I say suck, you suck, get it?”

Charles would tell him to get lost if he could speak, but the man’s grip on his jaw makes it difficult to do anything with him mouth. Except, as is turns out, receive his cock; Harry guides his head to it and lowers him down, sliding the tip between his lips.

_Oh god yes that looks amazing look at him amazing those lips so beautiful fuck his mouth fuck his mouth fuck his mouth-_

Charles shuts his eyes tight and screams around the flesh that is now filling his mouth. He’d bite, but Harry is holding strong – his jaw is killing him from the fight against his hand.

“I don’t have to hurt you.” Harry coos. “I told you it was about feeling good, didn’t I? But you have to let it happen, baby, don’t fight.”

_Open up let me take you fuck your mouth fuck your body so mine all mine don’t resist give yourself to me beg me let me fill you-_

Harry lifts his hips more that he pulls Charles down, but the result is the same, his cock hits the back of Charles’ throat and he gags, he wants to cough it up and only swallows around it instead.

“Yes.” Harry’s breath hitches. “Do that again.”

He bucks up again, choking Charles who can feel his eyes water. _I don’t feel good_ , he thinks. _I don’t feel good it hurts I don’t want to let it happen it hurts it’s not good make it stop stop it stop it hurts-_

Suddenly Harry pushes him back like he’s heard him. Charles takes a sharp breath in, as if he’d been under water, and snaps his mouth shut quickly while they’re no cock in it – Harry has released the death grip on his jaw. He looks at him strangely, one hand still tangled in his hair and the other on his neck.

“I don’t have to hurt you.” He repeats after a while. “I was too fast, I’m sorry. We’ll take it slow, you’ll enjoy it eventually. Here.”

He pushes him down, gets him to lie back on the sofa, his head on the arm rest. Charles wants to get away, but he’s afraid Harry will really hurt him if he tries. He’s been slapped by his mother before. If her petite hand can sting the way it did, he doesn’t want to imagine what Harry’s hand would feel like if he hit him.

“Let me.” Harry says.

And he leans in, and he takes Charles’ limp cock into his mouth, swallowing him whole easily. He sucks it until it gets hard again, stroking it with his tongue, taking Charles’ balls in too, nipping at them before going back to his cock, swallowing again, cock and balls and everything at once. Charles watches him, eyes wide, erratic breathing both from fear and the sensation Harry’s mouth pull from him.

_Tastes good tastes so good little perfect thing so new so fresh smooth tiny perfect will make him feel good-_

Charles presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, shutting down his mind again. He’s never heard anyone else’s thoughts so clearly – usually it takes an effort, he has to listen in. Tonight it seems he has to make an effort to keep them _out_. He’s only glad at least they’re more praising than aggressive.  

Harry eventually sits back on his haunches, a satisfied grin across his lips.

“See?” He says. “It feels nice, doesn’t it? You’ll learn to do it right, don’t worry.”

He runs a thumb over Charles’ lips again, and leans in to kiss him, slipping his tongue in and out – Charles feels limp, he just lets him. Eventually Harry gets on his feet, he picks him up, holding his naked little body against his chest, and he carries him up to his room. He puts him to bed, he tucks him in without asking him to put on his pyjamas, and he places a last kiss on his lips.

“We’ll try again.” He says.

*

The next day Harry is acting normal, like nothing happened. He makes Charles practice his French and German, they play some form of cricket in the park, they eat together. Charles doesn’t dare bring anything up. Part of him never wants to speak of it again, part of him wants to keep learning, because he’s not someone who fails at anything and he’s not a quitter. Harry doesn’t bring it up either; he settles in an armchair with a newspaper after dinner, so Charles eventually goes up to his room with a book.

It’s getting late when Harry joins him. He lets himself in with a smile, and comes to sit on Charles’ bed.

“Still up?” He throws casually.

“I was going to go to sleep.” Charles says, and he’s not lying. He’s reaching the end of his chapter and his eyes are tiring.

“Me too.” Harry answers.

Saying this, he undresses, dropping his clothes on the floor, and he climbs into bed with Charles. Charles puts his book down on his bedside table, looking at the man with a little frown.

“Are you…sleeping here?”

“Yes.” Harry says. “It’s cold in my room. That way we’ll keep each other warm.”

“No sex?” Charles asks cautiously. He’s tired and he doesn’t feel ready to try again.

“Not tonight if you don’t want to.” Harry promises. This being said, he tugs on Charles’ pyjamas. “Why don’t you get out of these? Body heat works better naked.”

Charles remembers the feeling of Harry’s skin against his, the warmth of his arms when he was holding him close. He can do with a little human warmth. He undresses, discards the two pieces of clothing and slips back under the covers. Harry pulls him close, wrapping his arms around his slender body, pressing the boy against him front to front. Charles feels his cock against his legs, a little stiff, but Harry doesn’t seem to want to act on it. He snuggles against the man, head resting on his arm, and he falls asleep.

When he wakes up he’s lying on top of Harry, the man’s hard cock jutting between the boy’s legs, pressed against the back of his balls. He startles awake and instinctively tries to get off him, but Harry’s hands are locked in the small of his back and pinning him down. He’s grinning at him.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning.” Charles answers, embarrassed, holding his upper body up above Harry, still pressed against him at the waist. He can feel that his own cock, trapped between their bellies, is hard.

“Lesson of the day.” Harry says – he’s still smiling. “Sex is not just a night activity. Morning sex is very much appreciated by a lot of people.”

“Because we sometimes get hard during the night?” Charles asks.

“Exactly.” Harry smiles even wider.

He unclasps his hands, but holds Charles at the hips.

“And I don’t know if you’ve noticed.” Harry goes on. “But when you’re hard, what feels really good is some friction.”

He pulls Charles pelvis up and back down, grinding him against his lower belly, and Charles lets out a surprised sound as he feels a jolt of pleasure shoot through him. Yes, friction, he gets it completely. He imitates the movement Harry just imprinted on him, rutting slowly against the man’s skin, and it feels like just what his cock needed.

_Oh my god look at him he’s so precious so beautiful little cock little ass cheeks his thighs and the sounds he makes-_

Charles clenches his teeth, suddenly aware and ashamed of the noises he was letting out. Harry doesn’t notice; he bucks his hips up leisurely, cock brushing against the cleft of Charles’ ass.

“I could use some friction too.” He says, stroking the boy’s hips and cheeks and thighs. “You think you could help me with that?”

_Go on go on go on you innocent perfect beautiful-_

“Stop thinking.” Charles snarls.

“What?” Harry frowns, lifting his head up.

“Nothing.” Charles mumbles.

He shifts down, sliding over Harry’s cock – sending a shudder up the man’s body – until it’s in front of him, and sliding back up until he’s sitting on it, the pulsing flesh fitting between his ass cheeks and its tip leaking against his balls.

“Oh God.” Harry breathes. “Move.”

_Move move move move move move move-_

Charles rolls his hips, and Harry’s eyes disappear into his skull.

_Perfect perfect beautiful oh god god beautiful perfect so good so good-_

Harry’s thoughts short-circuit without Charles needing to shut them out again. He rolls his hips and rolls them again, left, right, he presses down and he bucks against Harry, he leans forward to try and rub his own cock too, against the much bigger one he feels throbbing under him.

“Faster.” Harry pants, his hands finding their place on Charles hips and pushing/pulling to accompany – or guide – his thrusts.

Charles accelerates, and a minute or so later, Harry suddenly presses him down really hard against his groin and he spills white strings of hot semen on his belly, letting out a low howl that sounds almost pained. Next thing Charles knows he is pressed in the sticky mess and Harry is kissing him breathless.

“Thank you.” He lets out when he’s done, hugging the boy against his chest. “You’re such a perfect, beautiful thing.”

 _Yes_ , Charles thinks, _that I’m starting to get._

“Come on.” Harry sits up. “Let’s go get cleaned up.”

*

A few days go by on exactly the same pattern. Days as normal, then Harry slips under Charles’ covers for the night and fondles him one way or another in the morning. Charles always feels a little cheated, like Harry is mostly using him to get off (which he suspects he is, no matter how many times he tells him he’s beautiful), but he doesn’t say anything. He likes this better than being forced to take Harry’s cock in his mouth again.

Harry, however, seems to be keeping that in mind. One night, four or five days since they’ve started touching each other, he climbs into bed but doesn’t set to sleep immediately. He places himself over Charles, his knees and hands each side of his body, looking down at him. Charles looks up inquisitively.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“I think we’ve spent enough time on lesson one.” Harry says. “We’ll go back to morning sex when we get to actual sex, okay?”

“That wasn’t sex?” Charles frowns.

“More or less.” Harry shrugs. “But adults go much further than that. Now, I know it didn’t go too well last time, but if you want to pleasure a man, you have to be willing to use your mouth.”

Charles never said anything about wanting to pleasure a man, but-

_Your mouth damn it your mouth can’t get my mind off of your mouth perfect lips perfect mouth beautiful red lips how they were stretched around my cock so fucking hot tongue licking me damn perfect hot-_

He shuts down again, closing his eyes and pursing his lips together. He feels Harry’s fingers grazing his cheek.

“Don’t be scared.” He says. “I won’t get carried away this time, I’ll teach you.”

_Teach you to suck good cock teach you to give head like a good-_

“Okay.” Charles breathes out.

He can only concentrate on one thing right now, and it’s keeping Harry out of his head. He doesn’t have the mental strength to come up with a way to refuse.

“I promise you it’s good.” Harry pledges. “When you do it well, it’s really good. Come here.”

He gets off Charles and sits back against the pillows, spreading his legs and giving his cock a few quick tugs to it sticks out straight and hard.

“You start with the tip.” Harry advices. “Like a lollipop, okay? Just a little bigger.”

 _And it doesn’t taste so nice either_ , Charles thinks.

“Go on, take it in.”

Reluctantly, Charles positions himself between Harry’s legs and presses his mouth to the tip of his cock, parts his lips carefully – he doesn’t want him to shove it down his throat like last time.

“Good.” Harry says, already breathless. “Good, good. You can lick and you can suck. Go on. Take it in.”

He’s bucking his hips a little, and Charles doesn’t want him to get impatient, his throat stings remembering how that can go. He wants it to be good, he wants to do it well. He lowers himself down a little more, sliding Harry’s cock into his mouth, pulling back up with his tongue pressed to the skin.

_Oh fuck yes fuck yes fuck yes so good so beautiful lips made to suck cock-_

He bobs his head up and down, guessing he might be doing something right. Harry’s length is far from fitting entirely into his mouth, so he wraps his hand around the base to make sure he’s not going to try to push it all the way. Again, Harry seems to lose it, so Charles goes on and pumps in the same rhythm he sucks and licks. He’s still not really liking it, but it’s a lot better than the first time at any rate.

Just as he’s wondering how long he’s suppose to keep it up, Harry shoves him off and grabs himself a split second before he comes in hot spurts over his stomach. Once again, Charles feels the unfairness of their relationship. Harry might be teaching him sex, but he’s the only one ejaculating. Charles knows he’s too young, he hasn’t gone through puberty yet, and he knows roughly how that works. He might pretend to act like an adult all he wants, his body is still that of a child.  He wonders if with enough stimulation, he can get it to process faster?

“Oh, baby.” Harry breathes out, entirely oblivious to Charles’ inner debating. He wishes he would stop calling him that too. “Baby, that was very nice. You did really well for a first time.”

He comes forward to kiss him, as if it is an earned prize. It’s okay, Charles doesn’t dislike being kissed. He can feel that Harry cares for him at least a little when he does that.

“See that.” Harry informs him. “Was oral sex.”

“It’s not my favourite.” Charles comments.

Harry laughs. “Don’t worry.” He says. “There are other kinds.”

*

Harry’s idea of teaching him about the other kinds of sex is to bring in help. He invites over a man Charles has never seen, a tall, dark-haired and really fit man who smiles down at Charles like he’s edible.

“Oh Harry.” He says appreciatively. “He’s a treat.”

Harry has a little laugh, and he leads them both to a room – not Charles’ but one of the dozens unused others. He takes Charles’ hand and leads him to a large armchair positioned next to the bed.

“You’ll be sitting here.” He tells him. “You watch and learn, baby. You can touch yourself if you want, and then when Michael leaves you can ask me all the questions you want. Just know that you will need training before we can do that together, okay? Michael and I have done it before so it will be different than when you and I try it for the first time, you understand?”

“Yes.” Charles says. He appreciates Harry’s kindness even if he’s addressing him like he’s a dimwit sometimes.

He curls up in the armchair as the two men undress each other, kissing all the time. Michael’s hands come down to squeeze Harry’s butt cheeks, and soon they roll on the bed together, still kissing and now rutting against each other to get the friction Charles knows something about.

“Don’t make it drag.” Michael grunts. “I came prepared, I can take you. Show the boy.”

_Show him what he’ll get show him what it is to take it up the ass he must be so tight I’d love to breach him such a treat-_

Harry turns his head to Charles and smiles, and he keeps his eyes on him and he strokes his cock to full hardness, while Michael settles on his back and spreads his legs, holding himself behind the knees to present his ass to Harry. Charles looks at the man’s hole with eyes like saucers; it’s open wider than he thought was normal, red and glistening with something like oil.

“On your back?” Harry asks with a frown.

“Oh yes.” Michael grins. “I want to see his face.”

He turns his gaze to Charles too, and runs his tongue over his lips in a way that looks filthy. Charles’ eyes flicker back down as Harry pushes two fingers into that large red hole and hums approvingly.

“Hmm, yes, you’re nicely stretched.”

“Get on with it.” The other man growls.

Harry retrieves a bottle of oil from the bedside table, pours a dollop in his hand and rubs it over his cock. Then he aligns himself, positions the head of his cock against Michael’s ring of muscles, and pushes in, one smooth thrust until his cock has disappeared into Michael’s body to the hilt, his balls pressed against the other’s ass. Charles has to remember to breathe. Both men let out a low sound, and then there’s a chuckle from Michael.

“Look at him.” He whispers. “Riveted. You found a gem, you lucky bastard. When you finally get to-”

The rest sticks in his throat as Harry moves back a little and slams back in, thrusting even deeper into his ass if possible. Michael cries out in pleasure and his speech looses all coherence after that. Harry gets pounding, back and forth, back and forth, as Michael arches his body and squirms in delight. Charles watches Harry’s cock reappear and disappear, the glistening oil helping him slide easily in and out of Michael’s ass, which seem to be nothing short of sucking him in. Harry grunts like an animal, and he climaxes in a roar. Michael has been touching himself in the meantime, and he comes shortly after Harry, howling through his release. He drops his legs which fall each side of Harry’s hips, just as the latter bends over to rest his forehead on his stomach – probably smearing Michael’s semen in his hair, but he doesn’t seem to mind. The two men lie there catching their breath for a moment; Michael is the first to address Charles again.

“Wanna touch, boy toy?”

He points at the place where Harry and him are still joined; Harry sits up at hearing the suggestion.

“Leave him alone.” He says.

 _He’s mine_. Charles hears.

Harry withdraws from the other man’s body, white come leaking out of the hole as he does so. He gets them both up and ushers Michael to the bathroom. After a moment they emerge again clean and dressed – fully for Michael, in a bathrobe for Harry – and Harry pushes his friend out the door.

“Thanks for coming.” He dismisses him – and sniggers at his own pun. “You’ll find your way out?”

“Sure.” Michael says. He looks back at Charles. “See you soon.” He says with a wink.

Harry closes the door behind him and goes to the armchair the little boy is still curled into.

“So?” He smiles. “How did you like it?”

Charles isn’t sure _like_ is the appropriate term. It sure was the most intense thing he’s ever witnessed, and both participants obviously enjoyed themselves, but he’s not sure how he feels. He has an instinct he should probably find it very gross that they made him watch.

“Observation is always a good way to learn.” Harry says as if answering that, and he picks Charles up in his arms to bring him back to his room. “Next time we can start practicing. Did you see how good Michael felt? I’ll make you feel just as good. You’ll see.”

*

“Spread your legs more.”

“I can’t stretch that much!” Charles protests.

“Yes you can.” Harry contests. “You just have to relax.”

Charles whines, and Harry lets his legs go with a sigh.

“Okay, I can see that you’re scared. It’s okay, baby.”

He kisses him on the temple, gathers him into his arms and lets him curl up against his naked chest.

“I’m sorry.” Charles whispers.

He holds on to Harry more tightly than is strictly necessary. Ever since Michael was here, he’s been afraid Harry is going to realize he’s just a useless child, and leave him here to go to someone who can offer him actual sex. He doesn’t want Harry to leave him. He takes back what he was thinking when his mother left; he doesn’t want to be all alone in this big house with nobody to _ever_ care for him.

“Don’t be sorry.” Harry says. “I told you, it takes practice. Here, I’ve got an idea.”

He puts Charles down and lies back, putting a pillow under his bottom to prop himself up.

“You start.” He says. “You do something to me that you want me to do to you, and then I’ll do it back. What do you think? That way you will know exactly what will happen.”

“But I don’t know what to do.” Charles points out.

“You do what you want.” Harry says. “Touch me.”

Charles pokes a finger tentatively into the flesh of Harry’s butt cheek.

“Okay.” Harry chuckles. “I’ll guide you. Put your hands flat on my ass.”

Charles does, and he sees how small his hands look against the man’s skin.

“Pull.” Harry orders. “Like you want to open me.”

Charles squeezes the cheeks – Harry’s hole is not nearly as large and red as Michael’s was.

“Good.” Harry breathes. “Your turn.”

He pushes Charles on his back and has him hold his legs apart. As he places his hands on his ass he lifts him up, and as he spreads the cheeks apart his thumbs graze Charles’ hole – he can feel the skin pull. He expects Harry to put him down and ask him to do something else; instead he bends over, and licks between his thumbs.

“Ah!” Charles’ whole body jerks in surprise. “What-”

“Shhh.” Harry hushes him, and he presses his tongue in.

_God so tight so good he’s like candy so sweet perfect-_

Charles tries to close his mind to Harry’s stream of thoughts, but each wet thrust makes him lose control. He cannot think, he can hardly feel – mentally; physically he feels way too much – and he certainly cannot be strong enough to stop himself from hearing Harry.

_Licking him open I’ll stretch him good he’ll soften he’s so tight god so perfect beautiful tastes so sweet so good stretch him stretch make him soft make him loose tongue fuck finger fuck fuck him fuck him sweet become pliant stretch god he’s tense he’s still scared I like that scared so cute so eager to please sweet love protect teach mine all mine new fresh love his ass love his lips will have him lick my ass sweet Charles baby gonna make you mine take your virgin hole virgin body tastes like virgin love it love sweet perfect Charles oh the sounds he whines he writhes couldn’t be more perfect can’t believe my luck can’t believe how perfect how beautiful never done this never sex mine first mine to take open beg me can’t wait can’t wait anymore must take-_

A sob escapes Charles’ lips. He’s not understanding half of that as it pours through his foggy mind, he’s hearing but not listening, unable to escape from the physical – the sensation of Harry’s raspy tongue rammed in and out of his hole like nothing is private anymore.

Harry stops when he hears that, and hushes him again, leaning forward to kiss him softly. He’s still kissing him and Charles can feel his large hand cupping his shaft, palming him, and a finger probing at his hole, caressing the spit-slick entrance, and finally pushing in. Charles arches his back and tries to get away, but Harry holds him down with his other hand over his chest, and he presses his finger further in.

“Stop it!” Charles begs.

He hates the intrusion, his body is too hot and the foreign finger between his ass cheeks doesn’t feel right.

“Relax.” Harry replies. “You’ll get used to it, you’ll feel good.”

_So tight fuck so tight never be stretched enough to take me so small little ass little hole look at it suck my finger in god so hot perfect rosebud one finger he’s full already big cock up his perfect tight hole it’ll hurt so lovely scream cry beg don’t want to hurt though can’t wait can’t wait must take-_

Charles wishes the thoughts to shut down so intently that he feels like a bolt of lightning searing through his skull, then nothing. He doesn’t hear anymore. He doesn’t think anymore.

*

He wakes up in the middle of the night. His bedside lamp is still casting a diffuse yellow light, he’s alone. The sheets are damp and he’s cold. When he moves, his entire body hurts and he feels something slick and cold down his thighs. Looking down, there’s blood and semen and oil pooling together where he was lying. He guesses what happened – he did see Harry and Michael together – but he cannot remember any of it. He completely blacked out. He startles as the floorboards creak; Harry makes his way back into the room, setting a glass of water on the table.

“Hey.” He smiles. “You passed out. Are you okay?”

He strokes his hair, his cheek, places a kiss on his lips. He looks satisfied. Charles does not try to hear his thoughts, he’s glad they’re not pouring out anymore. He’s not sure he ever wants to know what Harry is thinking again. _Must take_. There was such a dangerous urge in those thoughts.

“My perfect Charles.” Harry whispers. “You did good.”

“Do you love me?” Charles asks in a small voice.

“Oh, baby.” Harry sits on the bed and takes Charles on his lap. “Of course I love you.”

*

Charles does his best to please Harry, he does his best to learn – he even thinks he’s getting good at it. He gets a mischievous satisfaction from the way he can make the grown man lose his mind and relinquish all manner of control over to him. He can virtually make him do whatever he wants. Except when Harry takes him to bed and penetrates his body; then he doesn’t have any control. He blacks out, he lets Harry do his thing. He comes back to reality when Harry is holding him after the act and telling him he loves him.

It all stops one day when, after getting Charles to give him a morning blowjob, Harry leaves to go  into town and Charles, instead of getting up to clean, stays in bed. He’s been feeling more and more vacant these days, and he’s having a hard time remembering how his hours used to be filled before Harry. He’s found there by Mary coming up to tell him that the maid has taken a day off. She sees the little naked body in the middle of the bed, his cheek, chin and neck still smeared in come, and it doesn’t take her long to put two and two together. She phones the hotel Sharon is supposedly staying in, and she takes Charles to her home in the meantime, nursing him back to health and liveliness for the few days it takes his mother to get back.

“What?” She reacts when Mary tells her how she believes her employee abused her child. “Is that it? Fooling around a little, that what was so urgent? Lord, I thought he was dying! You really didn’t need to drag me back here for that, Mary.”

They never talk about any of it again.

 

*

 

Charles still thinks about Harry sometimes. He used to miss him a lot, even when Mary tried to bring a different person to the house everyday – her daughter, friends of her daughter’s, an apprentice, whoever from the nearest town really – to make sure he was never alone, Sharon having left again. He didn’t care. He still felt alone. He played alone, studied alone, not really interested in anything – well, one thing. He practiced that mindreading ability of his. He figured it couldn’t be normal; he perused books finding little more than legends and rumours, but he knew there was something special about him. After a few months, he could hear anything people were thinking, and he could talk to them too – he found out after he involuntarily did it to the gardener, restoring his faith in God in the process. He sharpened his mind, tiptoeing around the memories he didn’t want to poke at, cautious about everything and everyone. Then Raven came, and things got better. He got better, back to his old self, then growing and improving.

But he still thinks about Harry sometimes.  

**Author's Note:**

> Should I add a chapter to end on a happier note? (the thing is I'm afraid if I do that it will turn into traumatized!Charles before it can get better...)


End file.
